


If You Had Wings

by letmegeekatyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmegeekatyou/pseuds/letmegeekatyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam doesn't have wings, but if he did, Cas thinks they would be beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Had Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Gdybyś miał skrzydła](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048821) by [RCS (RadioactiveCs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveCs/pseuds/RCS)



Sam and Cas spend a lot of time going over the MoL's files on angels, weeding out inaccuracies, filling in gaps, and so on. Sam is fascinated by the metaphysics of angelic forms, the fact that they actually do have shapes and substance, that they can act between planes of existence, in the way that angels' wings can cast shadows despite being invisible to humans. He grills Castiel on the subject of angelic bodies, and the two of them struggle for hours over terminology and how to describe things that human language was never meant to encompass.

The colors of angels' wings, for one thing. Cas gets as far as explaining that they are complex and highly individual, keyed to a particular angel's duties, identity, and experience, before he runs out of words.

"I don't know, Sam. They aren't visible colors, not like the ones humans have. They aren't set and measurable as wavelengths of light."

"But you do experience them in a similar way to how we see color, right?" Sam was leaning eagerly over the table, tapping a pen restlessly against a file. Books on avian anatomy sat at his elbow; although he knew that angels were not built quite like birds, they were similar enough that he found the books useful. His eagerness was contagious, and Cas, who sat across the table from him, rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands and looking thoughtful.

"Yes, the experience is similar. For instance, most angels' wings are variegated, and it is possible to perceive... I suppose you could call them  _patches_ of color that contrast with others, often in repeating patterns." Cas closed his eyes, picturing the various angels he had known and trying to match their appearances to things he had seen as a human. "Older angels have more...complex patterns, since their experiences have been more diverse. From a distance, their wings can seem...I suppose you might say  _duller,_ but that is only because there are more details and thus less contrast than you might see on a very young angel's wings."

"What do those details look like, though? I mean, not visually, I guess, but how do you understand them when you look at them? What do they  _mean_ to you?" Sam was writing quickly, trying to record both Cas's words and all the questions they brought to mind. He felt a need to know more, a need that arose out of a deep yearning and sadness, because he knew he could never see Castiel's wings. They were a part of the angel that would always be beyond his reach.

"They mean..." Cas frowned. "That's not quite right. When I see them, I understand their origins. I can...read an angel's self and life there." He shook his head. "I'm not explaining this well."

"It's okay, Cas, you're doing great."

Cas looked up, frustration written across his furrowed brow, and stared at Sam for a moment.

"I can see your wings, Sam." Sam stopped writing and looked up, confused.

"Pretty sure you can't, Cas. 'Cause I, you know, don't have any."

"But you could, that's what I'm saying. When I see you, I think of everything that I know about you--your life, your personality, your fears and dreams and skills and all of the pieces that make up  _you._ _  
_

_"_ Now, if you were an angel, all of those things would constitute the colors of your wings, and anyone could see just by looking at them the most important parts of you. Since you are not, those things are hidden except to those who know you well. But if you had wings..." Cas trailed off, looking at Sam with curious, widening eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.

"If I had wings?" Sam asked quietly, not wanting to break the spell Cas seemed to be under.

"Oh, they would be extraordinary, Sam. The roots would be dark, the lesser coverts made up of your childhood, the stain of the demon blood, the loss of your mother, your father's quest for revenge. They would be...speckled, though, with love, particularly the devotion of your brother. But they are small feathers, they are what made you, not what you are.

"The median and greater coverts would be starkly different. They are the times when you pulled away from the hunting life, pursuing the law. Their patterns would be regular; you looked for normalcy. But they would be marked at the edges with still more loss, alienation from your family, Jessica's death--all of these things became part of you, and they are interlaced with your pursuit of order and justice. You fight for good because you have seen so much evil."

Sam looked down at his files, unable to meet Cas's eyes. He could feel the wings as Cas described them, large and heavy, bound to his shoulders and sweeping outward across the room, the weight of his entire past in them, bearing them downward.

"Cas..."

"No, Sam, let me go on. I have to tell you about your primary coverts, because they are so beautiful, Sam. They are full of the lives of the people you have saved. They are...intricately patterned, so many lives, so many happinesses, all bright and, and  _moving_. An angel's wings are full of movement, like a dance or a breeze in a field, and yours are so very  _alive_ , Sam.

"The secondaries and tertials come out of struggle, and they are streaked with fears and suffering, with Lucifer and the Cage, but Sam--they are heroic. Every single one is made up of your courage. Oh, how you would fly on these wings, Sam. The strength of them is immeasurable.

"And your primaries, they are long and bright; they would be visible from so far away, the most brilliant, shining golds and whites cannot come close to them. They are your purity and sacrifice, not from the trials but from your soul, Sam. Your soul was always pure, the trials just...uncovered it."

Sam was still looking down, and Cas reached out to take his hands gently.

"Most angels do not have so much darkness in their wings. Our lives are full of...obedience. Sameness. They are not often extraordinary. Your wings, Sam Winchester, would be so much more beautiful than any I've seen."

And Sam felt, even as the tears clouded his eyes, a sudden lightness in himself. Felt the strength of his own shoulders, imagined how such wings could catch the wind and hold him aloft. How he wished Cas could teach him to fly. They were both quiet for a moment before Sam realized that his wings were incomplete.

"You missed a piece, didn't you? The alula?"

"So I did. Tell me, Sam. What would yours look like?"

Sam thought for a moment, trying to remember the function of the alula from his reading.

"It helps control speed and prevent stalling, right? So birds can slow down if they need to, fly more smoothly and land more safely."

"That is correct." Cas nodded, and Sam smiled down at their hands, then up at Cas.

"Then mine look like this. Like you and me, and the stories you tell, and the way you hold my hands. The way you keep me from falling out of the sky."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at http://sammysalive.tumblr.com/post/78080203777/sam-and-cas-spend-a-lot-of-time-going-over-the


End file.
